


The Convict Enters the Gungeon

by ohboopy



Category: Enter the Gungeon (Video Game)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-13 04:55:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28897758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohboopy/pseuds/ohboopy
Summary: The Convict takes on the Gungeon, determined to kill her past. Will her confidence see her through to the fifth chamber, or will conquering the Gungeon prove more difficult than she thought?
Comments: 8
Kudos: 4





	The Convict Enters the Gungeon

The budget revolver felt hot in The Convict's hand as she emptied another five rounds into the red shotgun kin in front of her. She dove to the right, narrowly avoiding another shot from a bullet kin behind her. Turning to face it, she unloaded another five cylinders easily, the bullet kin's last shot going wide before it fell with a feeble cry. Without hesitating, she reloaded the budget revolver and made her way to the wooden door on the far side of the room.

Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through her. Too late she noticed the rubber bullet that had hurtled her into the bullet kin's stray shot. She flushed, turning a deep, angry red as she screamed, eyes bulging. The picture she kept at her breast seared; an urgent reminder of everything at stake. If she died here, he would never pay. Switching to her trusty sawed-off, and filled with a rage so intense it seemed to infuse even her bullets, the rubber kin fell quickly with a satisfying pop.

She spat. So far so good. This place would have to try a lot harder if it wanted to kill her. She opened the next door confidently. A spotlight shone on a lone brown chest in the center of the small room. She opened it with a key she found in her jumpsuit pocket.

"A gun." Her eyes gleamed and she reached her hand out greedily. "If they're just giving guns away in this place there's no way I don't make it out of here." She pulled up the "Ammonomicon", another mysterious item that had materialized on her person at some point. Some kind of catalogue of items and enemies that could be found in the Gungeon. Flipping impatiently through the pages she found it. Blunderbuss. Charged. _Shoots anything._ She smirked approvingly.

The smirk faded as she examined the gun more closely. Black powder. Tch. She sucked her teeth. Long outdated, black powder guns lacked the firepower of more modern weapons, and took a long time to reload to boot. She slung it over her shoulder next to the sawed-off anyways. More guns couldn't hurt.

The next room went without incident. Three bullet kin, easily taken care of with the budget revolver. The following room proved more complicated. Two blue shotgun kin, spraying their bullets in waves, a red shotgun kin, and a bullet kin. It wasn't long before the three shotgun kin had her pinned in the corner. She fired her sawed-off, desperately rolling through the waves of bullets now flying in all directions. In the chaos she rammed head-first into the bullet kin trailing behind. Once again, red hot rage coursed through her veins Her vision blurred. She could feel the man on the picture in her pocket jeering at her. His fault. His fault. This was all his fault. Her sawed-off pumped ruthlessly as she exacted her revenge, empowered by her hatred. She continued firing even after the last kin fell before regaining her composure.

This might be harder than she thought; she still wasn't sure how vast the Gungeon was, just that she needed to reach the fifth floor. She needed to kill the past. The Convict was tense as she opened the next door.

"Oh, you're still alive."

You could practically hear The Convict's eyes snap to look at him. "Who the fuck are you supposed to be," she spat.

A burly man stood behind a counter, a cat lounging on the shelf filled with miscellany behind him. "Name's Bello. I sell guns, items, hearts, keys and armor. Pretty much cornered the market on them too."

Her eyes scanned the counter in front of him. Some health, a key, and a complete ammo refill, true to his word. With 56 shell casings she could afford either health or ammo, but not both.

"You should reserve your casings for the Prime Primer on the next floor. You will need them."

She knew who it was without even turning around. "Fuck you lady!" The Convict whirled to face The Hunter, who looked as calm and collected as ever. This pissed The Convict off even more. "I thought I already made it clear I don't want anything to do with whatever the fuck your little group is up to."

It was hard to read the expression on The Hunter's sun-worn face as she mulled over her response. "That is your decision." She fixed her unwavering gaze on The Convict, who turned and snatched the ammo from the counter, slamming down her casings in exchange.

"Thank you for your patronage!"

"Well," The Hunter said, finally turning away, "this has been an unusual meeting. I have never heard of the Gungeon allowing two Gungeoneers to meet within its halls. Although ever am I surprised by this mysterious place." The Hunter turned back to face The Convict. "I will see you in the Breach." The words hung heavy in the air. The Hunter took her leave with a nod, leaving through the door The Convict had entered by.

The Convict glared after her, gritting her teeth. Who did she think she was, anyways? _See you in the Breach_? Yeah, right. She was getting the fuck out of here. She just needed to find a way down to the next floor.

  


The Convict and Hunter had met earlier that day, on The Convict's arrival to the Breach. Little was known about the Gungeon, despite the fact that the legend was told throughout the galaxy: a fortress with an artifact of impossible power. A gun that can kill the past. Only those hopeless or brave enough to risk everything for another shot dared face the Gungeon. Whether anyone had ever succeeded, the legend didn't say.

The Hunter introduced her to the few other would-be Gungeoneers gathered there. A Marine and a Pilot.

"So are you guys here to kill the past?" The Convict was serious, right to business.

"We all know why we're here." The Marine wouldn't meet her gaze, his face tense. He was focused on buffing the helmet in his hands. Touchy subject, the past.

"Well I'm not afraid to say it. I'm here to kill my past. I was betrayed by a piece of shit and he's going to pay." She dared anyone to defy her.

"The Hunter was just telling us some things she learned..." the Pilot tried to smooth over the awkward atmosphere.

"Yes. I have been to the fifth floor--"

"So is that where it is? The Gun that Can Kill the Past?" The Convict glanced around the empty hall impatiently for an entrance to the Gungeon.

In the center of the room an incredible staircase towered up to an overhanging balcony. At the top, two impossibly tall sentinels loomed on either side of a massive bullet. In place of the bullet's primer yawned a foreboding entrance.

The Hunter was unbothered by the interruption. "The Gun that Can Kill the Past is guarded by the Dragun on the fifth floor."

"How do you get past the Dragun?"

"Shoot it?" The Pilot shrugged, "None of us have ever seen it. The Hunter's the only one that's even been to the fifth floor."

"Alright, well, this has been a great chat." No point wasting time. Defeat the Dragun on the fifth floor. From the sound of it, these people had as good an idea of how to do that as she did. She would just do it herself. The Convict turned and began to walk over to the staircase. "Thanks for the tip about the Dragun." She offered a careless wave over her shoulder as thanks.

"There is more to it than that." The Hunter looked meaningfully at The Marine and Pilot, who jogged after The Convict. "Please. There is much we should discuss." The Marine and Pilot barred The Convict's way just as she reached the foot of the stairs.

"Look, I appreciate it, but I feel like I got the gist." She scowled menacingly. "Now I don't want to hurt you so get the fuck out of my way."

"Come on, you just got here. There's a lot of things you gotta know before you go running in there." The Pilot was nervous. Panicked?

The Convict scoffed. "You've never even seen this Dragun, why the fuck would I listen to you?"

"There's more to it than that," The Hunter appeared behind her. "We need to work together." She placed her hand on The Convict's shoulder.

"Thanks but no thanks." The Convict shrugged away angrily. "You guys don't sound so fucking hot for one thing, and I prefer to work alone." She made to push past them. The Pilot put up his hand to stop her even as The Marine grabbed her wrist.

"You can't just go in there--" the panic in The Marine's voice was unmistakable as he tightened his grip.

"Get the fuck off me!" The Convict screamed, wrenching away from him, shoving through The Pilot and up the stairs. Once safely away, she turned back with a sneer, "I'm not going to help a bunch of fucking losers who can't take care of themselves. Good luck with whatever the fuck you're doing, but I can handle myself."

"You don't know what you're getting into." The Marine's voice grated the air, his eyes pleading with her. He looked helplessly from The Pilot to The Hunter, eyes wide and uncertain.

"It is impossible to do alone, we must work together!"

The Convict ignored them as she ran the rest of the way up the stairs, and through the primer.

  


"The Gungeon is a mystical place." Bello's deep voice startled The Convict out of her reverie. "Some say it's never the same twice. I say that all the time." He chuckled at his wit.

"What are you even doing here?" The Convict demanded, "How the fuck do you run a store in this fucking place?"

Bello's demeanor changed instantly. "We don't ask each other what we're here for in the Gungeon. Keep your questions to yourself."

Whatever. The Convict wasn't here to make friends. What she needed now was to find the elevator down to the next floor. She stormed on to the next room, immediately thrown back into the fray. This was more her comfort zone. Fat red bullets flying at her in all directions, she weaved between them, her own budget revolver spitting its response as fast as she could jam her finger on the trigger. Room after room she cleared the waves of Gundead, seemingly untouchable.

She stopped to take a breather, wiping sweat off her brow with the back of her hand.

"OW! God dammit what the fuck!" She jumped to one side. Spikes. She had been standing on pressure-release spikes. As her body flushed with rage she ran to the next door, ready to annihilate whatever lay behind. Bullet kin? Shotgun kin? Gun nut? Bring them on, she would obliterate them. She pushed open the door, every muscle tense with anticipation; inside, a lone a brown chest.

"God dammit!" It came out as half a sob, her veins burning with impotent adrenaline and no one to direct it towards. With a cry she tore the picture out of her breast-pocket, clenching it in her fist. "This is your fault!" The Convict spat at the crumpled picture, sinking to the floor.

A bulbous man with thick, black, caterpillar eyebrows set quizzically over bulging eyes looked back at her from the picture. A fat, misshapen nose practically glowing with angry, varicose veins, in combination with too much drink, drooped over a bristling push-broom moustache. All this grotesquely stuffed into a black suit and tie, like some sort of fancy sausage bulging in its casing. The Enraging Photo.

She and Black Stache had gone back a long way. They had met when she was still just Lily, a lackey in a sprawling organization. Black Stache had been a beat cop for the Hegemony, busting her for some petty offense she didn't even remember any more. The beginning of a long relationship. At some point their game of cat and mouse had transformed into something of an uneasy alliance. Lily, later Laser Lily, turned friend and foe alike over to Black Stache, who in return overlooked her crimes, as they climbed the ranks together.

The Convict stood back up and dusted herself off. She would find the Gun that Can Kill the Past. Black Stache, that fucker, would pay for betraying her. She walked over to the brown chest. Kneeling before it, she gave the padlock a jerk. It rattled uselessly as she dug around in her jumpsuit for another key. No such luck this time.

"UGH!" She gave the chest a frustrated kick, glaring at it spitefully. With a sigh, she continued.

An empty room with a roaring fire, crackling away in the center of the room. She looked around suspiciously, but kept a brisk pace. Cold unease settled onto her head and shoulders like a wet towel. Or maybe that was just sweat. The next door opened easily, at the brush of her fingers, willing her inside. Is this where it was all leading?

The room was small, but not cramped. An ornate entrance lay ahead of her. A massive, golden bullet. Whatever it was made out of seemed impossibly dense, you could practically feel its gravitational pull. A skull-like visage carved into it dared her to approach. Barely taking half a step, the door began to rumble upwards ominously. The deep, empty eyes flared to life, infuriated that any would dare rise to its challenge. The chains groaned their protests, inch by inch, until finally the feat of raising the extravagant door was accomplished. The Convict gripped her sawed-off tightly. Her heart beat heavily, pumping an unpleasant mixture of nerves and excitement.

This room was huge. Bigger than any before. The room was divided into three, by two moats which ran across its length: a large center stage, and two slim platforms that ran the length of either side of the room. On each corner of the stage, barrel bombs. In the middle, a nest containing a huge...Gatling gun? A shadow wooshed overhead. The Convict ducked, already on high alert. A massive bird swooped down on the nest, grabbing the Gatling gun in its claws. It wheeled around once more before landing with a thud. Putting the gun down, the bird let out a sharp cry. It flexed and every feather on its torso shot off. His muscles gleamed eerily in the dim lighting as he picked his gun back up. Gatling Gull.

She charged, up close and personal was the strategy with her sawed-off. Some scatter grazed him, and immediately Gatling Gull shot into the air, landing on one of the side ledges across the moat. The Convict rushed over, heedless of the growing red targets that followed her. Dull explosions followed closely on her heels. She reached the edge of the moat and rolled over without hesitation. She sprang up, unloading wave after wave of shot into the bird as he called down death from above.

Too late, she noticed he had finished as he took a swipe at her. Rolling away, she spat. That was fine. She worked better under pressure. Hatred and adrenaline ran through her as she fired mercilessly. The gull turned and fired at her, spraying bullets in impossible directions. Desperate to get away, she rolled back across the moat. She kept rolling, unsure when the bullet storm would end. Carelessly she rolled by an explosive barrel just as a bullet hit. Her rage renewed, she blanked, the waves of bullets disappearing as she charged in once more. Her sawed-off was almost out of ammo, but she fired on heedlessly. Gatling Gull jumped back to the main platform to renew his attack. It took everything she had just to dodge. Like an intricate dance, weaving in and out of the angry red bullets, she waited for an opening.

Gatling Gull flew off once more to call his rocket-fire down upon her. This was her chance. As long as she kept moving, she could keep firing too. After a mere two shots, the sawed-off was out. She threw it desperately, taking out the blunderbuss. She jammed her finger on the trigger relentlessly. Nothing. The stupid gun wasn't firing! What the fuck.

The Convict's mind raced before she remembered. The Ammonomicon! It had mentioned something about the gun being charged! She held the trigger down and felt the gun rumble. Was this a good sign? She had no idea. She kept the trigger down, the rumble growing before finally reaching a maximum. Bullets sprayed over Gatling Gull as The Convict charged her next shot. As Gatling Gull began to fire again The Convict blanked angrily. Her last blank gave her the opening she needed to get a few shots in. It was do or die now. Well, it had been do or die before this, but now it was especially so.

The blank's effects gone, the gull fired again. The Convict dodged desperately. She was tired. Her hands felt slick with sweat and she could feel her legs trembling. She tried to fire another shot, but let off the trigger too early. Gatling Gull closed in on her. He wouldn't let her stop. He fired at her again and again. She circled around him, barely ahead of his bullets. Finally, she turned just a little too fast. her ankle twisted. She stumbled for just an instant.

  


_Pop._

  


The Convict awoke with a groan.

"Welcome back." The Pilot looked over his shoulder at her. He and the Marine sat off to one side. There was no sign of the Hunter.

The Convict's head felt heavy and muddled. _Welcome back?_ Welcome back to what? The Convict looked around blearily, even the dim lighting piercing right through her skull. "Where am I?"

"You're in the Breach. We all wind up back here one way or another."

She was not in the mood for his carefree demeanor. "What the fuck does that mean?" The Convict winced as she sat up. It felt like her entire skull was throbbing. "Well?" she snapped.

"You died! You ran in there without listening to us and got killed!" The Marine blurted out. The Convict was too out of sorts to do more than look at him incredulously. "Now you're trapped here." The Marine continued, choking out the words. "You can't leave. You can never leave. All you can do is go into the Gungeon and die!" His head sank into his hands.

"Died? What the fuck do you mean I died?" The Convict was waking up now. The despair in The Marine's voice matching the urgency rising in her chest. She jerked her eyes back and forth between the two.

The Pilot shrugged and offered her a sheepish smile. "It's kind of a long story..." he trailed off as he looked at the ground, kicking absently at some debris. He looked up, the smile on his face badly forced. "But we've got plenty of time!"

**Author's Note:**

> This work is meant to be a stand-alone oneshot that I am planning to turn into a full-fledged story. I appreciate and encourage any feedback! Thank you for your time. :)


End file.
